Starting from Robinson Crusoe-Chapter 60 - 21: The Approaching Storm (Part 3)

Chapter 60: Chapter 21: The Approaching Storm (Part 3)
No more honking of cars at his ear, no more lights from the billboard across the street flooding into the room through the night.
He slept.
24th.
From morning, the sun was nowhere to be seen, as leaden clouds laid like a shroud from the mountaintop to the sea’s edge.
The dim light made it difficult to tell morning from evening.
The forest was thick with a sinister atmosphere, as the sea wind boldly tore through the embrace of the branches, howling.
Most of the seabirds that scoured for food by the tide had vanished, even the frogs keen on their musical performances had shut their mouths.
The atmosphere was heavy, anyone could tell the weather would change.
All morning, Chen Zhou was working on reinforcing the tent—this place was much too close to the coast, he worried the crude dwelling might be blown away by the wind.
There were enough planks taken from the ship, so Chen Zhou weighed them down on both sides of the tent, even added two doors, and raised the tent’s floor to avoid flooding.
In the afternoon, he began to move the gunpowder barrels away from the camp to prevent any lightning strikes from igniting them.
Don’t be fooled by their vulnerability to water and moisture, they are quite delicate. Just give them a spark, and they could easily blow the entire camp sky high.
Chen Zhou wrapped all the gunpowder barrels in canvas, tying them to tree trunks over a meter off the ground.
The barrel tops were covered not only by canvas but also by a thick layer of leafy branches, slanted trapezoidally towards both lower sides.
This way, they wouldn’t fear water from either ground or sky, preventing the gunpowder from becoming damp.
Towards evening, the humidity in the air became heavier, with gusts of wind growing ever tighter, sending forest leaves swirling all around.
Rain had already started out at sea, the gloomy rain clouds rushing swiftly toward the shore.
Chen Zhou huddled inside the tent, sitting on a low stool and lighting the fire.
Beside him lay a pitch-black sack, containing leftover small lumps of charcoal from more than twenty days after the fire went out.
These charcoals burned quickly, usable either as sticks or fuel, the biggest advantage was they didn’t produce smoke, suitable for a non-ventilated tent and such rainy days.
Firelight shone bright.
The "doors and windows" on both sides were shut tight, the flames flickering very little.
The stew in the big iron kettle simmered with a bubbling sound.
Chewing on some preserves, Chen Zhou stroked Lai Fu beside him and glanced towards the wooden box at the foot of the bed.
After nine days of simple treatment, the little gray cat’s eyes were almost healed, the white substance covering the eyeballs left only a thin layer and was hardly tearing anymore.
In better and better condition, the little cat gradually displayed the mischievous playfulness typical of its age.
Sometimes it would steal out of the box when Chen Zhou put food and water in, romping around the tent, especially liking to scratch its claws on the bedside cabinet.
When tired, it would lay on the fur bedding, seeming to have long forgotten its once inseparable companion.
Faced with Chen Zhou’s touch and caresses, it no longer reacted with fear as it did before, instead beginning to enjoy it, occasionally licking Chen Zhou’s fingers and purring with satisfaction.
But after eating bugs for over ten days, the little gray cat was still unusually thin.
Its rib bones faintly visible on both sides of its body, cheeks hollow, coupled with those slightly whitish eyes, looking very much like a sickly ghost, not an appearance that would win affection.
"Want to come out to play for a bit?"
Looking at the little gray cat, Chen Zhou smiled and invited.
The little fellow, hearing the voice, peeked over the edge of the box, glanced out, saw Lai Fu and shrank its head back in fright, keeping silent.
Seeing this, Chen Zhou reached in and picked the little fellow out, placing it on his lap.
He didn’t know how many months old the kitten was, but touching its tiny frame, guessed that even given a constant diet of good fish and meat in the future, it might be difficult to grow very large.
Especially since the illness had delayed its growth.
But no matter, if it doesn’t grow tall, it can still round out, right?
Rubbing the little gray cat’s head.
In the forest, the sound of rain gradually rose.